


Try to Talk

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I always thought that if I could have met him, if he ever got the chance to see that I picked up what he left, he'd… I don't know. Be proud? Give me his blessing? I really don't know, but I didn't think he'd <i>hate</i> me.” </p><p>or: AU where Tim actually talks about his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try to Talk

It was just a text. Really, he probably could have gotten them there with less, but a text was good. Short, clear, got the message across. _I need to talk._

 **Kon:** we’re on our way. field or rooftop?

 **Tim:** rooftop. civvies are fine.

He knew the real question: isolation and quiet or familiar ground, and the last time this happened it had been the former. But now he needed Gotham, the background noise of the city, the smell of wet trash on the harbor, the lights reflecting in the water that gave the same comfort as stars. He needed focus points for this, somewhere else to look.

It didn't happen often, these talks, but Tim was trying, _really, really_ trying. To not keep everything bottled up, hidden from his friends, from anyone. Dick was easy to talk to about some things, but Tim always found he left stuff out, small things but enough to keep Dick from thinking he needed to help, from knowing how bad it really was. It was different with family, but his friends? They'd shared so much with him, had seen him in the dark parts when no one was supposed to. They had a trust, the kind only a team could have, and Tim needed that. He knew he did.

It was still going to be hard.

He only had to wait about ten minutes for them to arrive, would probably have been less if they knew Gotham like he did. Kon sat down beside him first, legs dangling off the rooftop, half a foot of space between them as they waited for Bart to sneak behind a generator and change from his speed suit into civvies before sitting down on Tim’s opposite side.

“No pants on fire this time?” Tim teased, a weak attempt to keep the atmosphere light-hearted, keep pretending.

“Okay, that was _one-_ ”

“Six, literally six times-”

“ _One_ time it happened!” Bart insisted, laughing, folding his legs under him so his knee brushed Tim’s.

Tim snorted, knocking their legs together. “Yeah, sure, okay. Keep saying it, Mr. Friction Burn.”

“God, you guys are nerds,” Kon shook his head, clearly fond, and scooted a little closer to them now that he knew for sure contact was good for now. Tim elbowed him gently, and they fell into silence, all three of them looking out over the water. Tim could hear the clanking of construction, the familiar lullaby of jackhammers that put him to sleep in his safe houses, the honking of traffic and the whoosh of dirty waves against the walls and rocks.

Bart and Kon waited, patiently, not pressing him to talk and Tim was grateful, but he knew he needed to do this, needed to try. For them, he could try.

With a deep breath, he said the first line, what he'd been telling himself he'd open this whole thing with, “Jason- the Robin before me- he came back. A while ago, actually.” There was no need for secret identities here. Tim had checked out all the surrounding areas the past few days, found the string of empty warehouse actually _empty_ , no one around at three a.m. He was confident they wouldn’t be heard, no bugs, no people- just them on high roof. And he’d better be confident because it took him a week to build up to this, and it showed on his anxiously-gnawed fingernails.

There was a long pause, his friends waiting to see if he would continue but Kon spoke first. “He was dead, though, I thought?”

Tim nodded, still watching the harbor and shifting to sit on his hands. “Yeah. I don't know all the details, something about a Lazarus pit, and training and stuff but- he hasn't really talked about it. Hasn’t talked about much of anything, but we fought. He hates us. He hates _me_.” And that was probably the most devastating part. The Robin he'd looked up to, the Robin who'd inspired him, that he took pictures of on rooftops, laughing with Batman and- he should say this out loud. God, it was _hard_. “He was who I took pictures of, back when I was a kid. I got the tail end of Dick, just before he became Nightwing, and the rest was Jason and Batman. I looked up to him, you know? I didn't really want to be him, but he was still kind of my role model. We never met, but Dick and Alfred talk about him sometimes. He was a good kid, really nice and fun and he loved being Robin and helping people. After growing up in Crime Alley, I guess it was kind of a huge change for him to go from… that to fighting crime and living in a mansion every day. He was smart, too. Alfred says he read all the time and started learning German before he died. And I always thought that-” he had to stop, recompose and he _knew_ this was going to be hard but he couldn't cry _already_.

“I always thought that if I could have met him, if he ever got the chance to see that I picked up what he left, he'd… I don't know. Be proud? Give me his blessing? I really don't know, but I didn't think he'd _hate_ me. He thinks I _replaced_ him. He called me that. ‘Replacement’.” Tim shook his head, the bitter smile on his face nothing more than a habit but he knew it had to look really bad now. “The guy I looked up to, my whole life, is back from the dead and he hates my guts before I've even said more than ten words to him! _Fuck!_ ” He pulled his hands from underneath him and pressed his palms to his face, gritting his teeth around a yell and the gravel from the rooftop pushing into his cheeks.

He could feel Kon and Bart’s eyes on him now, watching as he let himself get angry, upset like he so rarely showed. He hated doing this, hated talking and telling them the thoughts that hurt, but he could feel it helping. Letting someone else know his burden, only feeling a little guilty for it. Tim knew they had their own things to deal with, but it wasn't like he wasn't there for them when they needed it. More than once he'd been Bart’s shoulder to cry on when Wally’s shit attitude made him feel ashamed, worthless, like he'd never be good enough. That was fine. He wasn't good enough for Jason, they could be not good enough together.

When he pulled his hands away and brushed off the gravel he huffed, looking up at the cloudy Gotham sky now, hoping desperately there'd be no big bright bat to disrupt this. It was now or never, he knew.

“He tried to kill me, too. He does that now, he kills people, and Bruce is pissed.”

“Dude..” Kon breathed out, quietly, like he didn't mean to, and Tim looked at him, saw the worry in his wrinkled brow. Felt Bart reaching to grab his arm and knew he was probably tearing up a little, never handled death well and the thought that they could have lost him without being there to stop it? Tim pursed his lips, looked back down at his feet as the guilt filled his throat, making him nauseous. “I’m sorry, I should have told you, or had someone tell you, when it happened but I.. There was a lot going on. I’m okay, obviously.”

“Tim,” Bart said, hand sliding down to grab Tim’s, palms together as he squeezed, and Tim still couldn't look at him. “You're not okay, that's why you're here, with us. And that's a start but believe me, you can't keep telling yourself you're okay and ignoring the problem.”

“I know, I know, and I'm trying, but-”

“No, it's good, you're trying and that's good. You're doing good, man,” Kon insisted, reaching up and putting an arm around Tim’s shoulder and pulling him back into his chest.

Tim closed his eyes and exhaled, nodding. It was helping. Talking was helping, the physical support was helping. This was working. Even though every word that he'd kept in made him feel like he was about to cry or puke, they were out there and someone knew. Someone would pick him up when it got bad and would know _why_. “You guys are getting really good at this. Bunch of smart assholes.”

That got a laugh, a rumble from Kon that shook Tim’s head, Bart’s loud and surprised. Tim smiled, small but there, and leaned into Kon.

“We've been reading some psych books. Never know when a baddie just needs to have their feelings validated and stuff,” Bart joked, legs unfolding so he could scoot closer to the other two. Both of his hands were holding Tim’s now, gently stroking back and forth along the pattern of veins on the back of his hand and wrist. That was kind of Bart’s comfort thing, hand holding, though it was much for him as anyone else. Still, it was nice. Grounding.

There was more quiet, and they lingered in silence until the unfinished conversation was too much for Kon to take. “Tim.”

“Hmm?” God, he sounded on the verge of falling asleep.

“What else is eating you?”

Tim exhaled again, slowly, but didn’t open his eyes. “I’m disappointed.” He paused, licking his dry lips, letting himself get the words together. “He changed so much from what I thought he’d be like. When he was Robin he always went all-in, and cared so much and fought so hard and I wanted to be like that. He was what I emulated when _I_ became Robin. ‘What would Jason do?’ And now he’s… he’s a _villain_. He’s the Red Hood now, and he’s killing people. It’s drug lords and and bad guys and stuff but he’s taking control of drug trades and sure, crime’s decreased, but at the cost of people’s _lives_ , you guys. Jason kills people and we’re not supposed to do that. I can’t do that.”

He shifted out of Kon’s embraced but let his arm stay over his shoulders. “I’ve had people die on my watch and it’s fucked me up. I know it has. And it’s been my fault but it’s never… I’ve never done it. It’s always been accidents, or things I tried to prevent but couldn’t, and I think I’m always gonna feel guilty about it, but I can’t imagine actually killing someone, you know?” A few nods of agreement and he continued, not really realizing how fast he was talking. “He’s different now. Everything’s different now. It doesn’t get easier and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I know I have so many people who care and are here for me, and I love you guys but he was… This totally unattainable character that I was never going to meet, who I could imagine would be my friend or mentor or something. The one person I idolized as much as Batman, and I blew it just by existing! He doesn’t even _know_ me! He’s some selfish, immature, fucking asshole who hates the idea that he wasn’t the breaking point for Bruce. He thinks he wasn’t important enough for the Joker to die but he was important enough to me that I- that I-” 

Breaking. He was breaking apart then and he could feel it, the choking sob that left his throat before he ripped his hand away from Bart to cover his face as the waterworks started. Tim’s lips pressed together to keep in the noises, not that it helped much. His shoulders shook and his breaths heaved until he got lightheaded, the ache of let down expectations and regret from not being good enough, or maybe because he _was_ good enough. He was good enough to become Robin, good enough to have friends like this, who put their arms around him and held him together when he couldn’t do it himself, good enough to have a team and a family that cared, that were proud. Good enough to matter to other people.

But not good enough for Jason Todd.

Not good enough to even be given a chance. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, Tim, no,” and he couldn’t tell who was talking, maybe both of them, but it felt like a string that had been wrapped around his lungs and heart was being pulled, constricting and hurting and cutting beyond what he wanted to deal with.

“You’re good enough,” one of them was saying, and _fuck_ he’d said it out loud. He probably should have anyway, but he didn’t _mean_ to. “You’re good enough and he doesn’t even deserve to get to know you.”

“ _But I want him to!_ ” Tim shouted past his hands. “I want him to know me. It’s stupid but I want him to know what I did because of him. He mattered. Robin mattered and he mattered. _So much._ And I- I became Robin because of Jason and he can’t see that. Bruce.. Bruce almost died. He was going to die, I know he was. He stopped caring about himself after Jason was gone, because he mattered. He thinks he didn’t matter but it’s all because of him. I wouldn’t even _be_ here right now if it wasn’t for him.” 

He was tired. So tired of all of it, of Jason, of the validation he would never get, of having all these _feelings_ and nowhere to put them until they exploded like _this_. He felt like a firework dud, buildup and release but nothing visibly coming out of it. It was just _out_.

Someone’s (on the right, Bart’s) sleeve was pressing against his mouth and chin, wiping away gross snot and tears, and Tim made a feeble attempt at pushing him away. “I thought Kon was supposed to be the mom?” he coughed, and Kon laughed suddenly, squeezing him tighter.

Bart leaned over to look at their faces. “What?”

“Nothing just- It’s an old joke. Don’t worry about it.” Tim managed a smile, weak, trembling, still kind of gross from crying, but a smile.

“If you’re still able to make jokes after all that, I think you’re gonna be okay,” Kon said, broad palm rubbing up and down his back.

“Yeah,” Tim exhaled slowly, shakily, still trying to calm down but making good progress. “Thanks a lot. Sorry I got all gross and stuff.”

“Dude, Kon has literally sat on me and farted toxic Kryptonian farts. It happens.” Bart grinned, face tucking into Tim’s neck, Tim reaching up to gently scratch Bart’s head.

“You need a haircut,” he mumbled.

“You say that like, every week.”

“Yeah, but you really need one now. Unless you want to rock a mullet, which I won't allow. The 80’s should stay in the 80’s. Kon could cut it, your undercut was awesome.”

“Really?” Kon ruffled a hand through his own hair, eyes turning up as if he could see it.

“Oh yeah,” Bart agreed. “Now you just kinda look like a nerd. _Ow!_ C’mon man, don't pinch! I have sensitive skin.”

“Oh my god, you're such a baby.”

“That's not something a mom should say.”

That got Tim to laugh. Hiccuping giggles that resembled crying a little too much but still managed to get his friends to laugh with him, holding each other loosely. It still felt like there was a lot he should say, but he could save it. His head was clearer than it had been in weeks, he was warm from all the physical contact, and he didn’t have to go home until the next day if he didn’t want to.

“Hey, you guys have anywhere you need to be? I kinda don’t wanna be alone after this. We could sleep at one of my safe houses, like the old days, y’know?” Tim offered.

“Nah. I’ll text Joan that I’m staying here for the night. We should totally watch _Electroma,_ ” Bart grinned, standing up on the roof and pulling Tim with him.

Kon groaned, hanging his head back to look at them. “Man, you’ve been trying to get us to watch that for months. You won’t even tell us what it’s about.”

“It’s- Look, it’s complicated. And kinda weird. It’s about Daft Punk, sort of? We can count up how many eldritch horror things we’ve fought all together while we watch it. It’ll be fun.” Bart insisted, smile stretching his face a little too wide to be considered harmless.

Tim shrugged, “Why not? We never get a night off together.” Kon sighed, heaving himself off the roof.

“Yeah, okay. C’mon, I’ll give you a lift if you give me directions.”

“Wait!” Bart cut in, jumping and pointing a hand out at each of them. “One more thing, before we lose the atmosphere.” He took the next step towards Tim, pulling him into a firm hug, cheek on his shoulder. Tim snorted, but lifted his arms around Bart’s back in return, almost not noticing that Bart was _leaning down_ to do this. “Kon, c’mon. Atmosphere. It’s fading.”

Kon shook his head but dropped his heavy arms around both his friends’ shoulders, holding them to him. “It’s like we’re all kids again.”

“Okay, I was literally the only one of us who was actually a kid,” Tim pointed out, one arm reaching around Kon’s middle. “And now I’m pretty sure I’m always going to be the shortest, this is stupid.” He felt Kon snort into his hair. “Seriously, I’m not growing any more. I’m topping out at five six and you’re what, Bart? Five nine already? At like six years old?”

“It’s because I drank a lot of milk growing up.”

“You were a kid for like twenty minutes!”

“Only speedsters can do the gallon challenge, Tim.”

“That’s disgusting. Can we go? I think we should go. Before someone calls in a report about three teenagers turning into one being,” Tim grumbled, leaning his forehead into Kon’s clavicle. “Oh, there’s an eldritch horror. Did I tell you guys about the town that turned into this terrifying flesh monster thing?”

“Uh, no?” Bart lifted his head up, looking at Tim with both worry and intrigue.

“I’ll order pizza when we get there and I’ll tell you. C’mon. “ Tim disentangled himself from them bother, jerking his head over the roof. “Bart, follow me and Kon. It’s not too far and I have the keys on me.” Kon leaned down, scooping Tim up under his knees and back. Tim cleared his throat, looking between both of them. “Thanks for this. It helped, I think.”

Bart zipped over and threw his arms around them for one more hug, squeezing. He may never have Jason’s support, but he had what he needed. “You’re our best friend, dude. It’s what we do.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks anyway,” Tim said, before he let out a sudden yawn. “Okay, seriously, let’s go watch this movie before I pass out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I don't post fics like, ever? But I have a lot of ideas so I'm gonna try to learn how to write and stuff and post before I chicken out. But one of my biggest canon complaints reading the Robin series was how little Tim talked about what happened to him, and he went through a lot of traumatic stuff at several points and rarely talked to anyone in-depth about it. And I really think that finding out that the person who inspired you to take up a mantle and follow into a legacy hates and blames you for just being there? That sucks, big time.
> 
> And I'm really bad about timelines, so this is pretty ambiguously placed. It's been a while since I read the issues where Jason came back, and I'm really bad about which comics go on at the same times as others. I'll figure it out eventually probably.


End file.
